Tale of Years: 1927
by Jessica314
Summary: Second installment in the "Tale of Years" series: Edward becomes dissatisfied with his vegetarian lifestyle, and strikes out on his own. 100% canon-friendly.
1. Happy New Year

I ducked into the school building, shaking the snow out of my hair. As I joined the mass of students loitering in the hallway, I swallowed reflexively as the usual wave of repulsive scents washed over me: hairspray, cologne, the stale sweat in the locker rooms, the food in hundreds of paper bags, the lingering baking soda on hundreds of recently brushed smiles. And rising above all these, one wonderful aroma: blood.

It was the first day of school following Christmas vacation, and a new year. The thoughts around me were a mix of disappointment with the vacation's end, and exciting plans for self-improvement as 1927 stretched out ahead. I had no such plans; in fact, I felt the familiar numbness of boredom settle over me as I walked over to my locker. This was my fourth time around as a high school student- the fifth if I counted my time as a human. I had graduated twice already, and the novelty of entertaining myself by reading minds was beginning to wear off. I had heard it all by now.

_I can't wait to show the guys the bomber jacket I got for Christmas._

_1927 is the year I grow out my gorgeous nails. Don't bite, don't bite, don't bite…_

_It's going to take all week for the students to settle down._

_Edward Cullen is such a DREAM! This is the year he's going to notice me. Maybe he just needs a little encouragement. Here goes nothing…_

I closed my eyes in exasperation as I recognized the thoughts of Mildred Fuller. At some point or another, most of the girls at Helena High School had fantasized about me in one way or another. My polite disinterest usually was enough to help them move on; most were either going steady or already engaged to be married. Mildred, however, was the most tenacious young lady I had ever encountered. She refused to "give up" on me, and her girlish fantasies from two years ago had progressed to mental images that I found very distasteful in anyone – especially a young lady. On her calmer days, she planned out exactly how I was going to propose to her, and how we would travel the world together after our success on Broadway. Ridiculous.

I sighed again as she began to approach, and I pretended not to notice as she walked by, brushing against my arm with her own. _There! _She thought as she continued down the hallway. I followed her with my eyes, noticing her new dress. It was cut in the flapper style, and she wore stockings with a seam up the back. The dress showed off her figure, which had recently begun bearing the curves of womanhood. I saw in her thoughts that she had purchased the dress with the hopes that it would help me "come to my senses". Really, I couldn't deny her beauty. Her scent, however, was one the most unattractive in the school. Not only did she douse herself with cologne every morning, but her blood often bore the bitter taint of alcohol, due to her late night visits to her father's liquor cabinet. I smirked. For all her efforts, she wouldn't tempt me even if I _was_ a normal vampire.

The bell rang, an irritating screech that always hurt my ears. I eagerly rushed – at human speed, of course- to first period. It was my favorite class, not because Biology had changed in the last four years, but because I shared a desk with Margaret Weiss. She was a dull, unimaginative girl. Her mind wasn't worth the time of day, but her scent was absolutely delicious. Her blood carried an unusual blend of floral sweetness and the sharp tang of pine. I sat down next to her and sighed in satisfaction as I took in her aroma. She glanced at me nervously and scooted her chair away from me a few inches. _Edward seems like a nice fellow, but he sure gives me the creeps lately._

I didn't understand this. It was true that most humans reacted to me with some discomfort, once the shock of my physical beauty wore off. But I didn't understand why Margaret grew more uncomfortable with me every day. It was as if she understood that I was dangerous, and she was meant to be my prey.

I shook my head to clear the thought. I was _not_ dangerous. I was completely in control, and I had no intention of ever hurting her, or anyone else. There was nothing wrong with appreciating the bouquet of her scent, as long as I didn't actually attack her.

It was three months ago that we had been visited by Demetri and Jane, two members of the Volturi guard. The purpose of their visit had been to offer me a position with the guard – my ability to read minds had come to the Volturi's attention. I had been flattered, but knew my place was with my family. I had politely declined, and they had left us.

Carlisle and Esme had been relieved at my decision to stay, and after a few weeks, the guards' visit ceased to be a topic of conversation. In my own mind, however, I kept thinking about the eye-opening experience I had had. Not only had I met my first "normal" vampires, I had also begun to consider new possibilities. I had talked myself in circles about the morality of our diet versus that of normal vampires, and I had come to the conclusion that it was purely a matter of opinion. Carlisle chose to honor what he called the sanctity of human life; Demetri did not. I saw no evidence in his mind that he hated humans; he simply did not think of them as _people._ After all, one lamb may see another lamb's life as sacred, since they are the same species. But it would be ridiculous for a ravenous wolf to control himself around a mouth-watering lamb; to him, the lamb is just a potential meal. In my own human life, I had eaten meat almost every day and never once felt sorry for the animal I was consuming, because it wasn't a person. I vaguely recalled having a friend that was vegetarian, but it's not like he had thought of animals as being _people_. Why should he? Why should I hold human life so sacred, when it was so much lower than my own?

I never once included Carlisle or Esme in my deliberations on this subject. I knew it would only offend their sensibilities, and they would be disappointed with my "inhuman" conclusions. It seemed that their goal was to act as human as possible, and they clearly wanted me to be human with them. I thought back to my wolf/lamb analogy. Even if a particular wolf were to decide not to eat lambs, he certainly wouldn't go join the flock and _live_ like a lamb. But I loved my parents deeply, and had no wish to hurt or disappoint them. So I kept my own counsel, and continued my life as an obedient son and quiet high school student. After all, I had never actually tasted human blood, so I did not find it difficult to continue resisting my instinct.

I did allow myself to begin enjoying the scents around me, however. When I had first begun spending my days around humans, I did my best to _not_ think about their blood; I had been too worried about losing control. But now that control was not an issue, I saw no reason why I should not enjoy the air around me. As I had once been fascinated to listen in on the thoughts of my peers, I now took pleasure in studying the scent of each person's blood around me.

There were so many facets to a human's scent. First was their blood, of course. Human blood in general held a sweet, rich aroma unlike anything in the animal world. Some had a floral scent, while others a woodsier, tangy one. Sometimes I could easily describe the scent with a single word, while others were more complex. Sometimes the quality of the scent was confounded by the consumption of alcohol or medications; it changed, also, in the presence of illness, low blood sugar or anemia. I spent countless hours playing a game to see if I could match the scent to the thoughts of the right person. I had to do _something_ to occupy myself in school, having already learned all the information four times over.

Besides their blood, each person had their own acquired scent as well. This depended on their choice of clothing, soap, cosmetics, diet and the like. In the past three months I had become quite accomplished at discerning each factor, and separating out the scents masking the aroma of the blood. I was becoming a connoisseur without ever having to actually drink the wine, as it were. In each class throughout the day, I had one or two "favorite" people and tried to sit as near them as possible. In gym class, when all the students were stinking of their sweat, I stayed close to the teacher, Mr. Lanham, whose high cholesterol gave his blood an especially rich fragrance. I had my whole day mapped out to maximize my "studies", but my absolute favorite was still Margaret Weiss.

As I sat beside her now, the teacher, Mrs. Wilson, saw the troubled look in her eyes as she scooted her chair away. _It looks like Margaret and Edward are at odds again. Probably some lover's spat… it might be best if I separate them. I could switch Margaret to seventh period…_

My jaw clenched in anger, and I was surprised at the flow of venom into my mouth. My muscles tensed and I felt a growing urge to attack, but I wasn't sure if my target was Margaret, or the teacher herself. How dare she separate Margaret's scent from me? All I could think was _mine, mine!_

For the first time in several years, my own lack of control truly frightened me, and I fled the room.


	2. Distance

I ran home as fast as I could. I passed a few people as I cut through the town park, but since they were only a blur to my eyes, I knew they couldn't possibly have noticed anything but a breeze. I couldn't stop; all I could think about was escaping from the school. How had I let myself get into that situation? I had only fed three days ago, and although Margaret's scent was tantalizing, it was nothing new. Carlisle had once told me that our kind has a tendency to be territorial. He said it was why most vampires can only live alone or with their mate; when groups try to hunt together, they often fight over their human prey. He assured me that this instinct remained buried in those of us who chose the vegetarian diet. So why was I almost ready to attack my teacher, simply because she wanted to move my classmate away from me? It's not like I had actually tasted her blood.

As I neared the house, my parent's voices appeared in my mind. I couldn't actually hear them, as I was still two miles off, but I could overhear their conversation from their thoughts. Esme was just hanging up the telephone, and Carlisle was speaking to her.

_Who was that? It's not every day we receive a telephone call._

_It was the school. They said Edward ran off- right in the middle of first period! The teacher said he looked angry all of a sudden and just jumped out of his chair. What do you think could have happened?_

_He must have had trouble with resisting someone's blood. When did he hunt last?_

_He went with me, just three days ago._

_That's odd… well, I'm sure he knows that hunting is the best way to handle it. He'll probably be back in a few hours._

I slowed to a stop just as our house came into sight, a growl rumbling in my chest. Although I had overhead thousands of their conversations, several of which were about me, this one made me angry. Carlisle had always praised me for my restraint. Why did he have to jump to the conclusion that I had lost control? I could have left that classroom for any number of reasons. Perhaps I had heard someone thinking about how I reminded them of a vampire, or perhaps I heard the thoughts of a criminal, approaching the school with a gun. Why couldn't he assume one of _those_ scenarios?

The truth was that I was hurt that Carlisle had jumped to the _right_ conclusion. I was truly embarrassed by my lapse, and even as I seethed in anger at their conversation, I turned around to follow his advice: I needed to hunt.

.

.

.

I threw down the elk's body in disgust. I had gorged myself, trying to purge the powerful emotions that had been overwhelming me since I had left the school this morning. Now I felt even angrier, because the elk's blood had been so… disappointing. It was true that the blood of herbivores was bland compared to that carnivores, but now I was too full to think of hunting anything else today. I dug a hole in the ground with my bare hands, still anxious to work out my frustration in some way. The dirt flew around me, and before I knew it I was standing in a trench six feet deep. _How fitting_, I thought bitterly. Six feet under was where I belonged, anyway. I buried the elk and spent the rest of the day running aimlessly, trying to vain to exhaust myself, and to escape my own fury.

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.

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It was dark when I returned home. Without meaning to, I slammed the door behind me and Esme came into the living room. When she took in my appearance, she frowned.

"Edward, what on earth! The school called today, saying you had run out and I've been worried sick! And what have you been doing all day? You're _filthy_!"

I looked down. My hands were still crusted with dirt from burying the elk, and my shirt was mussed from running through the woods all day. In the mirror of Esme's mind I saw the disaster that was my hair. In that instant, the last bit of my anger finally faded and I reached up to smooth my hair down. Esme was such a sweet, gentle soul and I could tell that I had truly worried her today. "I'm fine, Esme. I just needed some time to myself, that's all."

Her disappointment was obvious. _He won't tell me what's bothering him. And it was silly, expecting him to call me "Mom" just because I've been fretting all day. I wonder what's bothering him so._

Unable to answer her, and unwilling to lie, I simply turned and flew up the stairs to my room. I knew I was hurting her even more, but then, I was hurting too. I felt weary and lost. I sank to the floor, my back against the wall, and I retreated into the only peace I could think of. For the first time ever, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to imagine exactly what it would be like to drink Margaret Weiss' blood.

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.

Carlisle had been working his night shift at the hospital when I came home. By the time he arrived, I had cleaned myself up, and had been in my room for hours, brooding and journaling my thoughts. Hearing his footsteps downstairs, I slipped my journal into its hiding place behind some books. I had been writing quite a bit since our Volturi visitors had come, and since my journal contained the evidence of all my reflections, I had made a habit of keeping it hidden. I was reclined on my leather couch, reading the latest issue of _Scientific_ _American_ when he knocked on my door.

_Edward, I'd like to talk to you._

"Come in," I said calmly. My anger was gone; all I felt now was annoyance at my lack of privacy.

"Esme tells me you've had quite a day. What happened at school?" He was imagining me sitting calmly at my desk, doing a dissection lab when the boy next to me accidentally cut himself with his scalpel. In his imagination, I wasn't able to stop breathing in time and got up quickly to leave, removing myself from the temptation.

I felt ashamed all over again. Carlisle hadn't underestimated me in his conversation with Esme; he had come up with a perfectly reasonable situation from which I reasonably extricated myself. I couldn't even live up to his imagination, and I had spent an entire day being angry at him for something he hadn't even done.

"No, nothing like that. It's fine," I said.

Carlisle frowned down at me. "Are you sure? Did anyone have any kind of suspicions I need to know about? Did anyone see you moving too quickly?"

"I said it's fine, Carlisle." My voice came out more sharply than I had intended. I couldn't do _anything_ right today.

He sighed. _You know I'm not much at these kinds of conversations._ "Edward, I'm not blaming you. I just want make sure you're all right, and to tell you that you can talk to me. Whatever it is, I will listen and do my best to understand."

"Thanks." I turned my gaze back to my magazine. I was sure that if I said anything more, I would just bungle the conversation more than I already had. Carlisle stood still for a moment, and then walked out.

I focused on Carlisle's thoughts as he walked into his study. _How can I reach him? It's been like pulling teeth lately to get Edward to confide anything in me. Am I ever going to get this parenting thing right?_ His train of thought was distracted as he rifled through the pile of mail Esme had placed on his desk, including his favorite medical journal. _Oh! They've come up with a vaccine for pertussis! I wonder if I can convince Harry to order that for next month…_

I stopped listening as he gave his full attention to the vaccine article. I threw my magazine to the floor in frustration, even more annoyed with myself now for causing Carlisle to feel badly. He was such an honorable man, and really, a much better father than I deserved. But he was wrong in one thing – he couldn't possibly understand. He had never slipped up like I almost did today, and the real difference between us was that he didn't _want_ to slip up. Earlier, in my fantasy about Margaret's blood, I had imagined that I wasn't able to stop myself earlier today. It would have been so easy… the only real problem would have been the effect on my parents. They would be so disappointed, and it would ruin Carlisle's career, at least at this location. We would have had to move immediately. I'm sure that after their shock wore off, they would have understood my… accident. Carlisle had told me as much when I was an unruly newborn. I played his words back in my mind.

_Edward, I know the temptation is intense right now. I am going to do everything in my power to help you resist, but if you should ever make a mistake, I swear to you now that I will understand, and I will forgive you. _

Of course he would forgive me. That was the problem. He was all forgiveness, compassion, beneficence- which was exactly why I couldn't talk to him. His mind had never gone down the paths mine was going down now. He was just too _good_. I had even observed him on a hunt once, thinking what a shame it was that he had to kill such beautiful creatures in order to survive. And Esme… I would do anything to protect her from worrying about me, or dealing with the complicated questions I had been asking myself lately. No, I was going to have to deal with this on my own. I got out my journal again, and poured my heart into it.


	3. Detention

Things only grew worse during the next few weeks. The winter was an usually cold one, and the ice that coated central Montana seemed fitting as a chill settled over my own heart. My thirst was becoming more of a problem, and I found myself having to hunt at least once a week now. Sometimes I stayed out for two or three days at a time; I felt an increasing need for solitude. Carlisle and Esme didn't mind as long as I attended school on most days. They were used to coming up with a variety of excuses for my absence on sunny days; now they had to get more creative as I was truant more often, and sometimes disappeared in the middle of the school day.

My only consolation was that Mrs. Wilson had indeed moved Margaret to seventh period Biology. With my self-control weakening, I seriously wondered if I would able to resist her any longer. I found myself thinking more and more often about her blood; when she no longer crossed my path at school, I began thinking about other students and teachers, wondering what it would be like to accidentally…

"Mr. Cullen!" Mrs. Wilson's shrill voice broke through my daydream. _This boy is unbelievable. Ever since I moved Margaret out of here, he's been in a fog. I've never seen such a case of puppy love._

I bit my lower lip to avoid answering her. If only she knew what my daydreams were _really_ about…

"For heaven's sake, Mr. Cullen, I asked you a question!"

I finally stirred myself to look up at her with my best "innocent" look. "I'm sorry Mrs. Wilson, my mind has been wandering today."

_Oh, well, I remember those days myself…_ "Do try to pay attention, Mr. Cullen. Do I need to repeat the question?"

I easily picked the answer out of her mind. "Lymphocytes." She shrugged and moved on with her lesson.

I was not so lucky later in the day, however. I was sitting in European History and losing myself in the scent of the students in front of me when I heard Mr. Davis' voice call my name.

"I'm sorry, sir?" I asked innocently. Unfortunately, Mr. Davis didn't find me charming. He had always found my level of knowledge annoying and his thoughts held a tone of triumph.

"I _said_, Mr. Cullen, that if you can't pay attention in my class, perhaps you can get some work done during detention this afternoon." He scribbled on a green pad and tore off a sheet, handing it to me. My fellow classmates giggled behind their hands.

I was too shocked to be embarrassed. I couldn't believe I had actually gotten _detention_. I crushed the paper in my hand, shredding it with my nails until it was a pile of powder.  
It took all my willpower to hold myself down in my chair and not shred Mr. Davis himself.

This was another new problem lately. My temper was raging out of control; in fact, all my emotional responses were off. I was feeling increasingly frustrated with the fact that I was sitting in high school, day after day, while Carlisle went off to a real job. Did he mean to keep me in high school forever? The monotony was maddening. I had to sit still for six hours every day, staring at the back of the same heads, while he got to work in a fast-paced Emergency Room, filled with different people every day, and the blood-

The final bell rang, interrupting my tirade. I gathered my books and, giving Mr. Davis a glare, emptied the green powder into the trash can as I left the room.

.

.

.

I had forgotten to read the paper before destroying it; I had no idea where detention was. As I made my way through the hall, I listened in on all the thoughts and conversations around me, searching for the word "detention". It didn't take long; some teachers delighted in giving detention, and there were at least ten students in this very hall thinking about it.

_I can't believe I got detention again. I'm so sick of this school, and this town._ Mildred Fuller's thoughts rose above the rest; I had certainly had to listen to them often enough. She had finally been turned off by my increasingly rude behavior, and her thoughts lately were often like the ones she was having now. Her father had left her and her mother, and Edna's grades had been slipping lately. She was often thinking about dropping out of school, perhaps to find work as a waitress; her mother was having trouble making ends meet this month. I turned around and followed her into the room where we had detention.

The students ahead of me turned in their green slips, and I mumbled something about losing mine. The teacher stepped out temporarily to call our families and inform them that we would be arriving home an hour late. As soon as he was out the door, one of the boys leaned toward me from his desk. "What're you in for, Cullen? Get a ninety-nine percent on an exam?" His buddies snickered at his cleverness. I turned and bared my teeth, silencing them instantly.

Now why did I do that? It was one thing to let my temper flare a bit, but it was dangerous to show any behavior that might not be considered human. I carefully monitored their thoughts for the next few minutes, but they were all just thinking of me as crazy, and soon forgot about me, preferring to think about Mildred's legs.

I glanced over at Mildred. She was staring ahead lifelessly, but her mind was racing. _I have got to get out of here… soon. Mother doesn't understand me at all anymore, and if I stay in this rinky-dink town one more year I'll never get out. She really thinks I want to just sit at home and have babies like her. I can't even get a decent boy, anyway. I just sit in this stupid school, day after day, while other girls are making it big in New York. That could be me. It's going to be me._ She sat up straighter in her seat, her face set with determination.

I felt disgusted with her. Mildred had her whole life in front of her, and she wanted to run away and lose herself doing God knows what in New York City. Not only that, but it sounded like her mother really needed her help during a tough time. _Teenagers_, I thought_. They think their lives are so awful, and they always blame their boredom and lack of growth on their parents. _ I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes, allowing myself to become immersed in the scents of the immature juveniles around me.


	4. Eavesdropping

The hour in detention seemed interminable. The longer I sat, the more I worried about what Carlisle and Esme would say. I knew I hadn't been amicable at home lately, and I did feel badly about worrying them. As my fixation on blood made me more irritable, I was speaking to them less and less, either in an effort to avoid offense, or to avoid the conversation Carlisle kept trying to push me into. He knew I was unhappy, and had shifted his work hours so his time at home overlapped more with mine. He did this because he thought I was lonely and needed to talk, but it only made me stay away from home for longer periods. I needed time to think, and it was impossible to do that with his thoughts always bombarding me with his worry and pity.

I had also noticed a new trend in Carlisle's mind: he had been blocking me out. He had learned to do this early on, mainly as an exercise to measure my ability. When he and Esme married, his thoughts of her were often amorous and he realized the uncomfortable situation I was placed in. I tried to give them what privacy I could, and both of them did their best to school their thoughts around me, to ease my awkwardness as much as possible.

But in the last couple of weeks, I found Carlisle spending an inordinate amount of time running through medical knowledge in his head. Lists of discoveries over the centuries, the steps for complicated procedures, running through his medical dictionary in various languages, and so on. It was obvious he was hiding something from me, and my bitterness grew.

As I sat brooding in detention, a plan formed in my mind. Last month, when I had come home at an unexpected time, I had been able to eavesdrop on their conversation. I wondered if I could do it again – perhaps I could discover what Carlisle had been keeping from me. I knew that the phone call today regarding my detention must have spurred such a conversation; however, I had already been sitting her for an hour. I needed to give them a reason to keep talking.

When the teacher dismissed us, I asked his permission to use the school telephone. He led me to the office and, much to my annoyance, sat down to wait while I made my call.

I gave the secretary our home extension. When Esme answered, I used my annoyance at the teacher to let the anger build in my voice. "Mom, it's Edward. I just got out of detention."

"I know; your teacher called earlier. Sweetheart, I don't understand. How could _you_ have gotten detention?"

"Old Mr. Davis just has it out for me. This school is driving me crazy, Mom." I did my best to imitate the sulkiness that I had observed in the teenage voices around me.

There was a rustling sound as Carlisle took the phone from Esme. "Son, you need to come home immediately. We need to talk about this."

"I'll be home later. I'm going out to grab a bite to eat first." My lips curved into a smile at my joke. This conversation was going exactly as I had planned.

"Edward! I asked you to come home, and you're going to do it."

"Dad, I'm _really_ hungry. I'll be there as soon as I can." I slammed the phone on its hook dramatically, and sauntered out of the office. As soon as I left the school grounds, I checked around me to be sure no one was watching, and started running as fast as I could.

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Running at top speed, I arrived home in less than five minutes. I felt badly about being so rude to my parents on the phone, but I needed this chance to find out what Carlisle had been hiding. Since they thought I was out hunting, they would talk freely for at least the next hour. I stopped running while I was still in the woods, close enough to listen through both of their minds. Sure enough, they were still talking about me. I settled down on the ground to listen.

_I don't understand, Carlisle. He just hunted yesterday._

_I don't either – this is the third time this week. And it's not like him to be so disrespectful. What am I supposed to say to him when he comes home?_

_I just hope he does come home! He's been staying out so much lately, I worry that one day he simply won't come back._

_Surely things aren't that bad. But unless he is willing to confide in us, I can't help him. God knows I've been trying to reach him._

_So have I. Maybe he just wants to work through this one on his own._

_That's the problem, sweetheart. Edward is a smart boy, and he's learned so much. But the truth is that he was seventeen when he was changed. In many ways, he is always going to be at that difficult age. He's always going to need some guidance. And I don't know how to give it to him, Esme. I try to be a good father, but it's hard to know how to talk to someone who thinks himself a man, when in reality he can never reach full emotional maturity. I had hoped that in keeping us all to the animal diet, our baser instincts and strong emotions would stay suppressed. I know Edward hasn't slipped, but lately he's been acting more like a vampire than a human._

His mind raced through memories of the past several weeks as he had been observing me. Pictures of me with a tortured look on my face, my disheveled appearance as I returned from my frequent hunts, the closed door of my bedroom as he had often stood outside it, wondering if he should knock. His thoughts were interrupted by Esme's voice.

_Do you think he's losing control?_

_I'm beginning to think so. He always looks thirsty lately. He's had to hunt more and more often, and just yesterday I got a call from the principal. A parent had complained that Edward had actually _growled_ at his son in the hallway. _

I winced at the memory. It had been an accident – the boy had stepped on my foot as we pushed through the crowd on the way to class. I became angry and barely bit back the urge to snap at him, but I couldn't stop the growl that rumbled in my throat. The boy had looked frightened and had run off in the other direction. As a precaution, I had followed his thoughts for the next hour. He was thinking of me as a "freak" but I found no cause for alarm. I could only hope the boys I had frightened today in detention wouldn't speak to their parents, too.

_He growled at someone? Carlisle, they're going to get suspicious!_

_I don't care about our façade, Esme, I care about our son! _I raised my eyebrows at this. I had never heard him raise his voice to Esme before. I kept listening.

_What are we going to do? I'm really worried about him._

_So am I. If we were a human family, and my son was displaying this behavior, I'd be worried enough to go read his journal._

I gasped when I heard this. Surely he wouldn't dare!

_You know he keeps it hidden now. Besides, it's not we have to worry about him having a drinking problem or running with the wrong crowd, or wanting to hurt himself._

_It wouldn't work anyway – he'd know right away when he found my scent on it. Besides, I don't feel right infringing on his privacy. This isn't as simple as a human son going through something. Edward is an adult in as many ways as his is a child. We just have to be there for him and guide him as well as we can._

The conversation ended and I saw from Esme's mind that they were embracing. I turned to leave when Carlisle's private thoughts came through again.

_This is getting out of hand. I'm the leader of this coven… this family. It's time for us to move again. Maybe a fresh start at a new school will help Edward; or it might be best if he stays home with Esme this time. I still don't know how to bring this up to Esme. She loves this house._

I could tell from his thoughts that this was what he had been hiding from me: his plan to move us again. For me to start high school yet again, or worse, to stay cooped up in the house while he goes to work. I loved Esme dearly, but I didn't want to spend my days sitting at home with her, researching architecture and sketching curtains. And I _certainly_ wasn't going to start high school again. Just the thought made me so angry I lashed out at the nearest tree, cracking its trunk in half with my hand.

Listening to my parents' worried conversation was eye-opening. It was clear now that they thought of me as truly being seventeen, and worse, it appeared Carlisle believed I was never really going to grow up. The idea was preposterous. Just because my body was frozen at this age didn't mean I wasn't able to learn, to grow. Demetri's words came back to me from the previous year:

_And you would have him sit day after day, with humans for company? Don't you want your 'son' to grow? To _learn_?_

It was obvious from their words and thoughts that Carlisle and Esme still loved me deeply, so I tried not to be too angry. But Demetri's words rang true; Carlisle _was_ holding me back. I was a vampire, and just because I wasn't acting as human as they wanted didn't mean anything was wrong with me. And now I was hearing that Carlisle was planning to the whole charade over again: new town, new house for Esme to work on, new hospital for him, new high school for me. A never-ending four-year cycle, for the rest of my existence. It was intolerable.


	5. Departure

Instead of hunting and returning home as I had promised, I ran back to the school and climbed high in a giant spruce tree out front, settling in for a night of deliberation. Hours later, as dawn began to break, I was still unsure of how to react to what I had discovered. How could I make Carlisle understand? There was no denying now that I was unhappy, and Carlisle's vegetarian lifestyle was becoming unbearable. The only reason I was still resisting my instinct was out of respect for him, and even that excuse was beginning to look flimsy. Just today I had scoffed at my fellow students for blaming their misfortunes on their parents. Was I really being any different? I was one of the most powerful creatures on this earth, and I was hiding from my own parents, sulking in a tree because their way of life no longer suited me. Why didn't I just leave? I knew from Carlisle's memories that most new vampires only stayed with their creator long enough to gain self-control. And those few that formed covens were usually mated pairs. Until our visit from the Volturi guards last year, I had taken pride in the fact that our little family of three was able to stay together, when most vampires were unable to make such an arrangement work. But now that I thought about it, perhaps I had only been delaying the inevitable. Was it finally time for me to strike out on my own? The thought terrified me. Where would I go? Who would I talk to? And what about Carlisle and Esme? I hadn't been a model son lately, but I knew they would be devastated if I were to leave. No, maybe I could talk to Carlisle after all. Maybe we could work out some kind of-

My ruminations were interrupted by a group of students as they neared the school. They were leaning close together, whispering. I drew myself deeper into the darkness of the tree to listen.

"I can't believe she just left in the middle of the night! Why, her mother must be heartbroken!"

"I heard she eloped with Jimmy Parker!"

"I heard she got kidnapped."

"Well, I heard she ran off with a _jazz band_." The group drew closer together and whispered over this last possibility, thinking in the most likely.

But I could easily hear the truth in the mind of the girl standing apart from the group. Mary Whiteside was holding back tears as she played back her memory from the night before: her dearest friend, Mildred Fuller, had knocked on her window in the middle of the night, begging for bus money. Mary hadn't been able to deny her friend, and by now, Edna was halfway to New York City.

I was astonished. Only yesterday I had overhead Mildred's resolve to escape her woes, and she had already gone through with her plan. I found myself admiring her courage and feeling envious of her ability to take control of her own life.

I shook my head. This was ridiculous! I was feeling envious of a mere _human_ for having the freedom I coveted. I looked down at the group of students again. These weren't my peers! They were a lower species, one intended for my consumption. I could kill all five of them, and they wouldn't even have time to be afraid. My throat was burning…

I ground my teeth and held onto a nearby branch with both hands to keep myself in place. I would _not_ attack them. I would _not_ jeopardize my family's secret. A schoolyard massacre was the sort of thing that could bring the Volturi down on all our heads. I sighed in relief as the students entered the building. They were safe from me, and I was in control again. I could do this. I dropped down from the tree and walked into the building, just like I had every day since we moved here.

But it wasn't like every other day. As soon as I walked through the door, the scents washed over me, just like they had every day before. But this time, the blood was everywhere. I was surrounded by it, I was drowning in it. I waded through the sea of humanity in the hall, their bodies flowing with warm, delicious blood. The thoughts and conversations around me swirled into a red-tinted maelstrom before my eyes. The burn in my throat was unbearable, and my muscles were shaking with effort as I restrained myself. How many seconds would it take to kill everyone in this hallway? The teachers would have to be first…

By some miracle, I was standing back outside again, gulping in the fresh air. I raised my trembling hands up to my face, almost weeping with relief to find them clean.

My choice was made for me, then. I couldn't stay in this town another day; my control was weakening by the hour now. This led me to an unavoidable conclusion: I truly did not belong with my family any more.

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My first plan was to simply disappear, like Mildred. I was five miles out of town when I turned around, my guilt not allowing me to continue. There was also the matter of my journal; they would find it eventually, and although I had every intention of changing my diet when I left, I hoped to hide this fact from my parents. It would only hurt them, and the least I could do was protect them from the fact that their "son" was leaving because he couldn't resist his murderous instincts any longer. There was nothing for it; I had to go back and tell them I was leaving.

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As I walked in the front door, I took a moment to take in the peaceful, _human_ scene of the living room. My piano, the blue couch, the stairs with their iron railing. Would I ever stand in a living room again? Would I ever be a part of a coven again? I had no answers for myself, only the knowledge that I had to leave. I walked over to my piano, laying my fingers on the silent keys. Shortly after our visit from Demetri and Jane, I had discovered the music of Rachmaninoff. His stormy, brooding compositions had fit my mood perfectly as I worked through my doubts in the past months. It was only last week that I had finally stopped playing altogether; it seemed such a human pursuit, and the music only intensified the emotions that were already threatening to break my fragile composure.

I heard Carlisle and Esme's thoughts as they approached the house, too; they were returning from searching for me in the woods all night. I only had a few moments.

I raced up the stairs and quickly took out my current journal. I left the others; they contained nothing I felt needed to be hidden. I jumped out my window and landed in the back yard. I hurried into the woods and, selecting an ancient oak, buried my journal deep within its dry roots. I took my time returning to the house; I wasn't even sure yet what I was going to say to Carlisle and Esme.

We arrived in the yard at about the same time. When I saw them, I felt a rush of tenderness for the people who considered me their son, and had just spend all night looking for me. I rushed up to them and caught Esme in my arms.

_There you are! We've been so worried, Edward… are you all right?_ I pulled away from her, shaking my head slightly. I hated that I was about to hurt her, especially.

"Well, son?" Carlisle's question came abruptly, and I saw the apprehension in his thoughts: he could tell from my face that I had come to a decision.

"Carlisle… Esme… I just want you to know that I'm sorry for my behavior lately. Neither of you have deserved my rudeness, nor the strain I have put on this… family."

Carlisle put his hand on my shoulder. "Whatever it is, Edward, we can deal with it together. We always have."

"Not this time."

Esme drew in a sharp breath. "You're… you're leaving us?" I nodded, suddenly unable to speak. Her thoughts were a swirl, and then a dark cloud of realization. _It's my fault, all my fault. They were happy together before I came, and now he feels left out. _I shook my head and hugged her again. She pushed me away and stared into my eyes desperately. _Edward, don't do this! You mean so much to both of us! Our lives wouldn't be the same without you. Please, let us help you._ Carlisle's thoughts were along a similar line.

"I'm sorry, it's just that… I need some time alone. I need to… I just need to be on my own for a while." After all my months of journaling, of thinking carefully through the questions that plagued me, I couldn't find the words now. I felt foolish and immature. I felt _seventeen_.

"Edward, please... your mother and I don't understand. Up until a few months ago, you were happy. What happened to make you…" His eyes grew wide as he realized what had happened a few months ago. _Edward, no, don't go to them! Once you are in Aro's clutches, you'll never be free again! Is that what you want?_

I shook my head slightly. While I was intrigued by the Volturi, I had no wish to become a servant; I wanted to be my own man. What could I say to make Carlisle understand this? I stepped forward and embraced him, barely whispering, "I won't go to them, I promise." I didn't want Esme to even hear the possibility. Carlisle's shoulders relaxed as he heard me. I pulled away from him and began backing away from the people I loved more than anything in the world.

"I love you both. Please understand; I will always be grateful for the years we have spent together. I could not have chosen two better friends or… parents." My voice broke on the last word. I had to get out of here. I turned around and shot into the woods behind us, feeling their eyes on my back.

Carlisle's mental voice was frantic. _Please, son! Please come back when you are able. We'll stay in this house as long as we can. We love you, Edward, we always will. Please come home…_

His pleas were joined by the sound of Esme's quiet sobs, and their thoughts faded behind me as I ran.

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I tore aimlessly through the forest. I had no destination, no plan – only the drive to escape. I ran in circles for hours, tearing down trees that rose up in my path. My anger was growing every moment. I was filled with revulsion at my own cowardice; I had hurt Carlisle and Esme deeply with my abrupt departure, and now I was running toward a life they could never approve of. Yet the thrill of freedom also ran through me; I was no longer bound by their approval, their rules. As I ran, the burn in my throat grew, and my anger became a rage of thirst. I passed several deer, not giving them a second thought. They were too far beneath me now; I was ready to discover what it was _really_ like to be a vampire.

All at once I stumbled out from under the canopy of the forest. I looked around wildly, unsure of where my mindless wandering had brought me. As I realized where I was, fear and excitement rose in me simultaneously; I was standing in front of Margaret Weiss' house.


	6. Direction

How fitting that my escape should bring me _here._ I felt my lips curl up in a feral smile as I anticipated the meal I was about to have. I had been _dreaming_ of this moment. Then I noticed the glittering on my hands as the fading sun shone on them, and I retreated back into the shadows. At least I still heeded Carlisle's advice from my first years: the hunt should be approached with precision, not savagery. I was in control, and I had no intention of exposing my nature unnecessarily. In fact, it dawned on me now that I had never killed a human before. How did one go about this sort of hunt?

In my musings of the past weeks, I had considered this question a few times. I had thought about the strategies used by the prey I admired most: the mountain lion. He was a powerful predator, but he did not exert or endanger himself without need. He mainly chose prey that were weak, old, or unprotected. I had assumed that I would follow a similar strategy.

But now here I was, facing an entire group of humans in their home. It seemed a bit excessive to massacre the entire family. It would be a waste of blood, and possibly garner enough attention for the Volturi to notice. I should follow the mountain lion's example and hunt elsewhere.

At that moment, my eye caught movement in a window of the second floor of the house. Venom flooded my mouth as I recognized Margaret, and I inhaled deeply, catching just a trace of her scent on the cold air. No, the thought of missing out on Margaret's delectable blood was physically painful. I could do this. I would wait and observe the family's movements within the house, and when I had determined which room was hers, I would be able to slip inside in the middle of the night. I sat down with my back to a nearby tree, motionless as I waited for my chance.

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In the end, it was Margaret's mother who saved her life. The more I watched the family move about their home, the more I lost my nerve. Mrs. Weiss was a small, sturdy woman who bustled about her kitchen for hours while I watched. Her thoughts were in German, and I was able to follow along for the most part. Her love for her daughter was obvious, and she was proud of the success their family had found in America since their arrival twenty years ago. She had high hopes that Margaret would be the first in the family to attend university; Margaret had already spoken to her about applying to a teacher's college. Mrs. Weiss whistled as she cleaned up the dinner dishes and baked almond macaroons – Margaret's favorite.

Although Mrs. Weiss looked nothing like Esme, I couldn't help but be reminded of the mother I had left behind. I had never seen Esme do much in the kitchen, of course, but now I could imagine her in the role of this human mother. I smiled fondly at the image my mind created: a human Esme, humming cheerfully as she pulled a pan of muffins from the oven, chattering to her baby in his high chair. It was the life that Esme should have had. It was the life she _would_ have had if it weren't for the inhuman behavior of Charles Evenson.

My head snapped up at the memory of Esme's abusive husband, who had driven her to homelessness and suicide. He was the only human I had ever thought to hate, and it had always bothered me that he was out living his life, a free man, while Esme was doomed to an eternity of night. I had sometimes wondered what had become of him after her "death". Where was he living? Had he ever been brought to justice? Was there another woman in his life now, suffering at his hand?

A new plan formed in my mind. Margaret Weiss didn't deserve to die anymore than her mother deserved the pain of losing a child, like Esme had. No, I had a better target in mind now: a man who had already earned my vengeance.

I jumped to my feet and took off immediately, heading southeast.


	7. Hunt

Columbus, Ohio was a revelation to me. I had never before seen such a large city, or so many cars. Each time we had moved, Carlisle had always found us a home near the wilderness. He done this so we would be close to plenty of game, but the isolation also helped us be able to relax when we were home; one tended to receive less uninvited guests when he was far enough away from town.

It had taken me four days to reach the city. I had never before traveled on my own, and it hadn't occurred to me to even look at a highway map. I had lost my way several times and had grudgingly stopped to hunt once, settling for the greasy blood of a black bear. I could barely choke it down, knowing I would soon taste something sweeter, but I was determined that my first kill would be the man responsible for ruining Esme's human life.

I walked now through the streets of Columbus in the grey light of dawn. I looked up at the sky, smiling at the endless stretch of storm clouds. At least I would be free today to begin my search. Now that I was finally acting on my instincts, I found my self-control returning and I was able to walk near the people who were just coming out to begin their work day; they weren't my prey. But how was I going to find Charles? The only information I had about his location was the name of this city. There were only a few times when Esme had thought about Charles in my presence. The first time was only hours after she had awoken. Esme had been frantic with thirst, and we took her hunting immediately. After a while, she had finally calmed down and the three of us were walking back toward the house. Carlisle felt it best that I should be up front with her about my ability, and after he had finished explaining it, Esme turned to me in wonder.

"You mean you can hear anything I'm thinking? All the time?"

"As long as I'm within about a three-mile radius, yes. But I will do my best to respect your privacy; everyone has thoughts they wish to keep to themselves, after all." I hadn't intended to say it quite that way, and of course Esme wasn't skilled at controlling her thoughts like Carlisle was. Her mind was immediately filled with the dark memories of her human husband. Images flashed in sequence in my mind, and I stopped walking, frozen to the spot in anger as I realized what I was seeing. I watched Charles yelling at her on their wedding night, telling her how stupid she was; the images quickly progressed to show a slightly older Charles, now back from the Great War, his face blurred with drunkenness as he beat her.

Esme spun around, realizing what I had seen, her face haunted. _Edward, please, don't say anything. Please, I just want to forget about him._ I nodded, forcing my hands to unclench and my feet to continue walking. Carlisle hadn't noticed our exchange.

In later months, as Esme and Carlisle married and drew closer, she finally told him everything. He was livid, and for a moment, I thought my peaceable father was actually going to go out and kill Charles himself. But Esme begged him not to intervene; she repeated again her desire to simply forget about him. Carlisle agreed, but he immediately began the process of moving us to another state; that was how we had ended up here in Montana. After that time, it was rare for me to catch a glimpse of Charles in Esme's thoughts. She had been fortunate to lose many of those memories during her transformation, and her new life with Carlisle brought her so much joy that Charles Evenson had never come up in conversation again. Out of respect for Esme, neither Carlisle nor I ever investigated what had become of her former husband.

I regretted now having obeyed Esme's wishes; I truly had no idea if Charles was still in Columbus, or even still alive at all. I spent the next ten hours wandering the busiest streets of the city, listening to the minds around me in the hope of overhearing his name. Finally it occurred to me to visit the post office. I decided to pose as Sydney Evenson, a distant relative of Charles', looking him up after years of estrangement. As I searched for the post office, I amused myself by creating a whole back story to go with the name I had created. I idly wondered if this was how other "normal vampires" conducted their hunts; it was certainly a change of pace from stalking sleepy herds of elk.

It was already dark by the time I reached the post office, and there was a "closed" sign hanging over the thick glass window in the door. I slammed my fist against the glass in frustration. But I had forgotten my strength, and the glass splintered out in a starburst pattern. I nervously looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but I was alone; the post office was in the business section of town and all the stores were closed already. I stared at the splintered glass for a moment, wondering what Carlisle would think. What would he say if he knew his son was committing his first breaking and entering? I shook my head. I was not Carlisle's son… not anymore. I reached up and, with one flick of my index finger, shattered the window entirely. I reached down through the hole and unlocked the doorknob from the inside. The door opened easily and the glass shards crunched under my shoes as I entered the dark room.

I crossed immediately to the large file cabinet on the far wall, and began rifling through it until I found a directory of residents in Columbus and its suburbs. I flipped through to the end of the "E" section and found what I was looking for: Charles Evenson, onetime resident of Columbus, had changed his address two years ago when he moved to Kettering. I carefully replaced the file and closed the cabinet. I couldn't prevent the police from discovering my handiwork with the door, but there was no need for them to know _why_ someone had broken in. In fact, I supposed it would be wise to throw them off the trail entirely. I looked around the room. If I were a normal burglar, what would I steal? Money, of course. I found the cash register and smashed it open with the back of my hand. I pulled what paper money I could out of the twisted metal and pocketed it. I did need money, I reasoned, if I was ever going to wear anything other than the shirt I had on my back. In my haste to escape Carlisle and Esme, it hadn't even occurred to me to retrieve my wallet. I knocked over a few lamps and stacks of paper for good measure, and walked out into the night.

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The address in Kettering was a small, lonely house just on the outskirts of town, hidden from the main road by copse of elm trees and a long driveway. As I began walking up the driveway, I could hear signs of a struggle. A familiar male voice rang out, shouting expletives. I focused my ability until I could "watch" the scene unfolding from Charles' mind. He had just thrown a young woman across the room, knocking her unconscious. He was thinking how worthless she was, just like Esme…

I recoiled in horror as pictures of my mother's terrified, bleeding face rolled across his mind. This man was truly a monster! I roared in anger and raced up the driveway, smashing through the picture window and landing on my feet in the living room. Charles' thoughts were coming from above me as he registered surprise with the sound of breaking glass. _Of all the times for a break-in! I can't call the cops or they'll see her. I'll just have to take care of this myself._ In his mind I saw him quietly open his nightstand drawer and take out a revolver.

As I ran up the stairs I saw Charles just coming out of his bedroom, gun in hand. He held it steady; in his thoughts I saw the previous times he had used it.

"Alright, who sent you? Was it Mario?" he sneered as he raised the gun level with my head. His mind raced with fears over his gambling debts, and the men he had already killed to escape payment.

When I had been searching for Charles earlier today, I had relished the thought of tormenting him, drawing out his death in the torture that he had inflicted on Esme. But now I was only filled with disgust with the creature before me, and I just couldn't allow him to live another moment. His eyes widened as I flew at him with unnatural speed, and my fist crashed into his temple, breaking his neck instantly. I caught him as he fell, and, lowering my bared teeth to his throat, I let the ecstasy take me.


	8. Speakeasy

I sank to the floor, closing my eyes as I tossed aside the bloodless corpse of Charles Evenson. My hands were still trembling with the thrill of what I had just done, and I heaved a sigh of deep satisfaction. Human blood was everything I had dreamed it would be, and more. I shivered as I savored the aftertaste on my tongue, and as I felt its warmth course through me, I was intrigued at the change within my own body. I could already feel a new level of strength in my muscles, and I opened my eyes to discover my sense of sight sharper than ever before. I felt _alive,_ and I wanted more.

I scrambled to my feet and pushed open the door to Charles' bedroom, looking around for the woman he had been abusing. Would her blood taste different than his? I found her still lying in an unconscious heap on the floor, on the far side of the bed. Venom filled my mouth again, and I walked towards her in anticipation. I stopped short, however, when I saw the wedding ring on her finger. In my hesitation, I heard the broken fragments of her dream: she and Charles, smiling at each other across her parents' parlor, the happy memory of their wedding three weeks ago, and her shock as she discovered later that day what Charles was really like. I flinched and took a step back, taking in the sight of her again. She couldn't have been older than eighteen, and her hair was strikingly similar to the color of Esme's. A huge bruise was blooming across her face, and her nightdress was torn. It was uncanny how the scene before me matched Esme's memories of her time with Charles, and I took a few more steps back, swallowing my venom. This woman had already been through so much, and now she had a chance to live a life free of Charles' brutality. I couldn't take that life from her… I just didn't have it in me. She may be just a human, but I couldn't stop thinking about Esme as I looked at her. I turned and left the room, leaving her in peace.

I picked Charles' body and slung it over my shoulder. I headed down the stairs toward the front door, but as I passed a mirror in the hall, I froze when I saw my reflection. My eyes were glowing red, evidence of my recent meal. That was it, then: this was who I was now. There was no going back.

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I had already planned ahead of time how I was going to dispose of the body. After my "visit" to the post office, I had stopped in an all-hours drugstore and used my newly found money to purchase a book of matches. Now, as I carried Charles' body through the dark streets of Kettering, I cautiously listened around me to make sure I wasn't seen. When I was sure I was alone, I tossed the body into an alley dumpster and quickly lit a match, tossing that in as well. The rubbish in the dumpster caught fire quickly, and it was as easy as that.

As I watched my victim burn, I found myself feeling glad that I hadn't tortured him. If had found him in other circumstances, I might have; I had been planning to, in fact. But upon finding him in the middle of such a villainous act, I couldn't help but end his miserable life as quickly as possible. Upon reflection, it would have been uncomfortable to hear his terrorized thoughts. Besides, I had never played with my food before. Oh, I sometimes enjoyed a good tussle with my more ferocious prey, but I always ended their lives quickly; I had never once made an animal suffer. It only seemed right to continue that habit, now that I was enjoying my natural food source. After all, I might be a predator, but I was no monster. I was not like Charles, or like Jane. I shivered at the memory of the three seconds of immeasurable pain I had endured from her talent. I had been sickened by the fiendish pleasure she had taken from my pain; no, I would never be like Jane. I vowed to myself then and there that I would always kill quickly and mercifully.

But where should I head now? Having had my first taste of human blood, I desperately wanted more. I glanced around me, seeing nothing but a sleepy American town, its inhabitants nestled in their homes, dreaming. Did I really want to choose a house at random, and destroy the peace of all who lived there? Though I had convinced myself of their inferiority, I was still unable to fully detach myself from the human lives being lived around me. I hadn't had this trouble with Charles; he had been such a wretched sinner, I had hardly thought of him as human anyway.

I spun on my heel and began the short run back to Columbus. Perhaps in the city, I would be able to find more men like Charles.

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It was just after midnight when I returned to Columbus, yet some of the streets were still busy. I walked around for a while, casually sampling the thoughts around me. It seemed several people were making their way to something called a speakeasy, and they were all looking forward to the carnal delights that awaited them there, most of all the drinks. I was confused by this; I had thought the sale of liquor to be outlawed. I curiously joined the crowd that was pressing toward the… furniture store? That couldn't be right. As we drew closer, the small crowd funneled into an orderly line. Directly in front of me was a young woman, her hair cut in an attractive bob and a bulky overcoat keeping out the night air. She was not planning on spending much tonight; in fact, she was mentally bemoaning the fact that she had only a pearl necklace and ten dollars to her name. She consoled herself by reaching down and, through the thick fabric of her coat, feeling the outline of the hip flask she  
had strapped on before leaving home. I had never met such a woman before; her appearance was that of a mild-mannered young lady, but her mind raced with anticipation at the fun she was about to have. The phrase "singing for my supper" crossed her mind, but it was meaningless to me. The tone of her thoughts reminded me somewhat of Mildred Fuller, and I idly wondered if she had made it to New York yet.

Looking ahead, I noticed a big, burly man at the door. Each person paused before him, whispering the phrase "white mule". I assumed this to be some sort of password, and when my turn came, I spoke the words as well, keeping my red eyes down. The man held out his arm to stop me, however. "Hold on, kid," he growled. "Your folks know you're out here?" _These kids get younger every year. Shame when folks don't mind their own kids. This one ain't gettin' in, unless the price is right._

I narrowed my eyes and dug into my pocket, handing him a wad of bills. His eyes grew into saucers and he stepped back, waving me in. I followed the line of people in front of me, and we wove our way through the furniture displays in the darkened showroom. Now I understood: ahead, in the back of the room, a bookcase had been moved aside, revealing a barely-lit stairwell to a lower level. I could now hear the music of a saxophone and a piano wafting up through the opening. I descended in turn, and was amazed to find myself stepping into the middle of a blaring, boisterous nightclub.

I staggered back a step as the smells hit me. At least seventeen different types of liquor assaulted my nose, along with the perfume, cologne, and sweat of well over a hundred people. I had no trouble ignoring the scent of blood down here; it was practically drowned out by the thick haze of cigarette smoke and conflicting scents. On the far wall a huge bar was sprawled; this was the center of the crowd's attention tonight. At a few tables men and women were playing cards, and piles of money sat in the middle of each table. Over in the furthest corner of the lounge was a small jazz band on a tiny stage, filling the room with lively music. I was drawn to them; I had never seen jazz performed live before. I stood entranced for a moment, watching the pianist until I felt the push of the crowd behind me.

"Hey, Mac! If you're not gonna buy anything, at least let the rest of us in!" a voice behind me spoke, and I felt a hand push rudely into my back. I turned toward the man, growling, but in the poor light and swell of sounds, he didn't notice my response. I thought better of it and decided I had better do something to fit in. I made my way up to the bar, uncomfortably close to the press of bodies around me. I listened for a moment to what other men were ordering, and, handing a few bills to the bartender, asked casually for a shot of whiskey.

The man looked down at the money I was holding out, then back up at my face. I was pleased to notice that in the poor lighting, my eye color wasn't discernible. He laughed at me. "Sonny, for all that, you can have yourself the whole bottle!" I nodded, putting on a what I hoped was a pleasant smile. He took the money and shoved a bottle into my outstretched hand. I brought the bottle up near my nose and took a whiff from the opening; it was revolting. I pulled myself back out of the crowd and made my way over to a small, empty table where I could sit without being trampled.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the woman who had entered just before me –one of the other girls call her Betty- she was taking off her overcoat, revealing a scanty flapper-style dress coated with garish yellow sequins, complimented by her pearl necklace. She dug into one of the pockets of her overcoat and pulled out a huge yellow feather, pinning it in her hair. I raised my eyebrows. Even Mildred Fuller wouldn't have been _that_ daring. Betty made her way up to the crowd by the bar, and I lost sight of her.

I began to relax. I was becoming accustomed to the myriad sounds and smells of the nightclub, and my gaze drifted back over to the jazz band. I watched in fascination as the pianist moved to the rhythm of his song, his whole body dancing as he played. I had never before seen someone play with such raw feeling. I sat staring at his hands for at least an hour, memorizing the songs as he played them. For that hour I was able to completely forget what I was, and why I was back in Columbus; I was nobody here, and the darkness suited me. I reveled in my anonymity and leaned back in my seat, enjoying the music.


	9. Choice

After a time, the pianist stood up and beckoned toward the crowd at the bar. I saw the woman Betty in his thoughts, and sure enough, she broke away from the crowd, laughing loudly as she skipped up onto the stage and stepped up to the microphone. I saw in her mind that she did this several nights a week, and that she depended on tips for the majority of her income.

She nodded to the pianist, and in a moment her song was filling the room. A hush fell over the crowd momentarily, and all eyes turned to her – but only for a moment. The buzz of conversation slowly rose again until Betty's singing was just a small part of dissonant blend of sounds in the room.

As my mind was beginning to organize and filter through all the smells around me, I began to notice the scents of all the humans in the room. My nose wrinkled; I was surrounded by humans, but there was a bitter tinge to most of their blood scents, due to their alcohol consumption. Perhaps this wasn't the best place to find a meal. I was about to leave when I overheard the thoughts from a table nearby.

_That Betty sure is a real Sheba. And those pearls – I bet they'd fetch a pretty price. _I glanced over to find the source of the thoughts; he looked a shady character, slouching in the shadows as he played cards with three other men. I picked his name out of his companions' thoughts: Mickey was apparently notorious for his hustling in their poker games, and they were all watching him warily. His mind wasn't on the game, though. He was still thinking about the pearls. _If I could just get my hands on them, it'd sure help cover the bills this month. I sure ain't having much luck here at the table tonight. Might have a bit of fun with Betty, too._ He smiled to himself, thinking about the bowie knife in his pocket. _Yep, I think this is my lucky night._ He began to form a plan in his mind, and I saw his intention to get Betty alone in the alley behind the furniture store, and his intention to leave the alley alone, the pearls in his possession. Satisfied with his plot, he turned his attention back to the cards in his hand.

I smiled to myself, too. I had my next target; Mickey's mind was even more odious than Charles' had been. His companions suspected he had killed a man last month following an especially heated poker night, and they were right. I noted with further pleasure that Mickey hadn't been drinking tonight, having put all his money into his game. His blood would be clean, and so would Betty's; after all, they would be together in the alley when I followed Mickey out later. It wouldn't do to leave a witness, so it made sense to clean up after myself. My fingers gripped the bottle harder in anticipation, and the top half of it shattered into my hand.

I strolled over to the trash can in the corner, and discreetly poured out half the bottle with the broken glass. As I passed by the stage, I glanced up at Betty as sang. She had performed this song many times before and her mind was wandering.

_What a great crowd! I bet I make another twenty dollars tonight. _She was eyeing the open steamer trunk sitting at the front edge of the stage, pleased with the growing pile of money in it. _A few more nights like this and we might be able to land that apartment after all._ She was picturing her three-year old son, whom she had left sleeping alone tonight while she came to her "night job".

While I was put off by Betty's appearance and unladylike behavior, there was no mistaking the tenderness in her thoughts about her son, and the pride she felt in her growing success as a lounge singer. She was proud of her efforts to support her son and herself, but I saw a glimpse of disappointment; her original plan had been to work her way to New York City, where her talent was supposed to be discovered. She really _did_ remind me of Mildred. I walked up to the stage and slipped a few dollars into the steamer trunk. Betty saw this and favored me with a wink. _There's a new face, _she thought as she watched me walk back to my table._ He sure looks lonesome. Maybe he'd like to walk me home tonight._ As I sat down and glanced back at her, she winked at me again, and I rolled my eyes. I might have left behind Carlisle's small-town human life, but there was no escaping the attentions of the likes of Mildred and Betty.

I sat impatiently now, spinning the broken bottle between my fingers as the revelry continued around me. I marveled at the realization that, vampire or not, my life had been quite sheltered with Carlisle and Esme. As the night wore on, I amused myself by listening to the thoughts around me, and I gradually pieced together the stories of the humans in the speakeasy. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, as I was forced to conclude that each person here had a life, not just a scent. I was sitting in the midst of a crowd of _people_, not animals. I had spared Charles' wife because her story reminded me of Esme's, and now I found myself deciding to spare Betty, as well, because she reminded me so much of Mildred. I felt curiously protective toward her, and congratulated myself for my decision to save her from Mickey's plot.

Just then, as if in response to my thought, Mickey shoved his chair back and stood, raking the pile of cash towards himself and chuckling at his victory; he had cheated in the end, with no one the wiser. He stashed the money deep inside his coat, reserving a hundred dollars out of the lot. He carried this over to the stage and smiled up at Betty, making sure she noticed as he deposited the money in the trunk. In her surprise, Betty stumbled over her song and leaned down to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Why don't I walk you home tonight, sugar?" he whispered in her ear. Her smile faltered just for a second as she nodded. She picked up her song again, and he returned to his table.

_Mickey seems like a swell guy, and I've seen him around often enough. I guess it couldn't hurt, especially after that hundred._ She was trying to convince herself to trust him, and his success infuriated me. I had chosen my prey well.

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The party finally broke up around four in the morning. Betty received her share of the tips and took the feather out of her hair. Mickey sauntered up and helped her into her overcoat, and they turned to leave. I eased out of my chair and headed toward the stairwell with the rest of the crowd, tossing my half-full bottle into the trash on my way out. We wound our way back upstairs and out through the furniture store, and I waited a moment before following Mickey and Betty; they had slipped around the side of the store, into the alley. When I turned the corner, Mickey was just pulling his knife out of his pocket and Betty's face was twisting in horror as she realized her predicament.

In a blink, I had my right hand around Mickey's throat and he was pinned up against the brick wall, his feet dangling in the air. "Run, Betty," I growled over my shoulder. In the heat of the hunt, I was beginning to notice the aroma of her blood as well as Mickey's, and I knew if she didn't get out of my sight now, I wasn't going to be able to stop myself.

"Thanks, stranger," she breathed and she scampered out of sight. I turned my gaze back to Mickey's face, which was now as white as a sheet. With a quick twist of my grip, he was dead, and I was feasting again.

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Five minutes later I was looking down at the city beneath me. I was perched on the roof of a high rise on Broad Street, the highest point I could find. I was watching Betty as she ran home, transfixed by her thoughts. She was frantically thanking God for her narrow escape, and when she reached the boardinghouse, she ran upstairs and threw herself down on the bed, sobbing as she held her sleeping child close.

The scene warmed my dead heart. I was glad for my choice to let her go, and I resolved at that moment to only hunt those humans who preyed on others. I felt some poetic justice in my decision; one predator devouring another. Would Carlisle be proud of my choice? I knew the answer, but I reminded myself that, but for my intervention, Betty would be lying dead in the alley right now, and a child would have been orphaned. I wasn't a monster, an indiscriminate killer like other vampires; I was a vigilante, a protector of the weak.

I looked down at the people of the city again, triumphant as I realized it had only taken me five days to find my place in their world; I was their hidden savior, the avenging angel stalking the evil in their midst. I was a _hero_.

**The End**

**A/N: Poor stupid, misguided Edward... fortunately the story doesn't end here. ****_Tale of Years: 1931_**** will start coming up in the next couple of weeks. It will focus on Edward's return to his family and his vegetarian lifestyle. I haven't written much of it yet, so if anyone has any ideas or suggestions I'd love to hear them. Thanks for reading!**


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